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There are certain days when I feel especially American—4th of July, Thanksgiving, and days when I just really miss my country, my culture, my family, and my friends—especially birthdays, Christmas, etc.
I don’t always feel American, however. I left the U.S. when I was 19-years-old and have only been back from time to time over the course of my life—much to my mother’s dismay. The majority of my years have been spent abroad in Europe and in Africa.
Falling in love with France at the age of 9, I was determined to go and live there one day.
I did.
Now, married to a French man, I have dual nationality—American and French. I always carry with me two passports, two driver’s licenses, two of everything.
It’s this strange duality, feeling like you are from two different places, and somehow losing yourself in the middle.
Not only do I not always feel American, but I am not always proud to be American.
It’s sad, but it has been my reality—especially during the past four years.
I can still remember the day, the moment—November 2016. We were living in France at the time, cleaning and painting a new building that our organization had recently purchased. We were preparing to set it up for a community coffeehouse. It was smack in the middle of an Arab neighborhood. After living in North Africa for so many years and working with immigrants and refugees, it’s where we felt most at home.
As I cleaned some plants and sat them out to dry in the sun, a little Algerian boy I knew from the neighborhood stopped by to greet me.
“Do you know who your new American president is?” he asked me.
I had not heard the news, so I could honestly tell him, “no.”
“It’s not good,” he said.
My heart sank. I knew at that moment that this was going to be a battle in our global work in the immigrant community.
It has truly been a battle that has only intensified.
As the world’s perspective of the U.S. and its leadership continued to darken, I found myself hiding . . . hiding in shame and embarrassment.
When people asked me where I was from, I often answered evasively and changed topics or quickly declared that I was a dual citizen with a French husband. I didn’t want anyone to associate me with the American flag.
I did everything I could with my words and actions to disengage and disconnect myself from my country.
For four years, I have been embarrassed to be an American.
I am not here to share my political views. That is not the reason I have this cultural story platform, and I avoid political discussions and debates at all costs. You can ask my husband and my two older boys who love to engage in these types of heated discussions.
Rather, I am here to share the personal stories, experiences, and observations of my cross-cultural life and how people, places, and cultures have impacted and changed me. That is why I write.
Maybe not every American living abroad has experienced this to the same degree as our family has. Our life-long work is among immigrants and refugees. As a result, we have an extremely strong viewpoint on integration and welcoming the foreigner . . . loving those who are different than us and seeing beyond our differences.
We are also on the flip side of that coin. We live in Spain, and we, ourselves, are foreigners in this beautiful land. I am thankful that this country welcomes me as a stranger, thankful that they welcome my entire family—even if we don’t look like them and can’t speak their language!
Even if you live abroad and don’t work among the immigrant and refugee community, I know that many expats have felt the strong anti-American sentiment that has spread around the world.
We have all felt it, and it has been hard.
Saturday, a friend in the US texted me and asked if our local Spanish news had been covering the elections. I responded that the entire world was watching. This election was of global concern and would have global impact.
I texted back, “There are few people and few countries in the world who like our current president. There is a strong anti-American sentiment that has spread and decayed throughout the past four years. It is sad.”
My friend in Pennsylvania responded that she had no idea that the world felt that way.
Her comment surprised me at first, and then I realized that if you live in the US—especially rural America—you may be completely oblivious and unaware of the larger world perspective of our country.
On the other hand, we are immersed in it on a daily basis. We hear it on all sides. The international news is full of it. We can feel it. It’s palpable.
Like all of you reading this, I have been waiting with bated breath to know the outcome of the 2020 Presidential elections. Starting Tuesday, November 3, I stayed up until the wee hours of the night—at least 2 or 3 a.m.—glued to livestream TV in the U.S. A couple of nights, I actually fell asleep in my clothes on the couch, surprised when my husband woke me up a few hours later to get the kids up and ready for school.
I didn’t want to miss a beat. I didn’t want to miss a single vote counting update. I didn’t want to miss one of the candidate’s speeches. I didn’t want to miss the big announcement . . . Who will be the 46th President of the United States of America?
I was feeling very American—much more than usual—and I wanted to be a part of my nation’s history.
It’s strange, because I am not someone who is typically highly interested in politics. However, this election meant more to me than politics. This election meant promise and hope. There was hope of restoring to me, my family, expats living abroad, and perhaps all Americans a renewed dignity and pride in our country and its leadership..
Living thousands of miles on the other side of the world, I felt physically and geographically disconnected and distanced from my country, my culture, my people . . . at a crucial time.
I could only watch history take place through a screen, from the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.
I had lots of questions . . . What would be the outcome of this election? How would it affect us here on this side of the world? How would people perceive me as an American in the days ahead? How would it affect our work among immigrants? Would I have to continue to hide as an American expat living abroad? Would I feel embarrassed and ashamed of my country for the next four years of my life?
I won’t tell you who I voted for. I do carry a French passport, and the French don’t tell!
However, I will tell you that Sunday morning at 2:30 a.m. Spanish time (8:30 p.m. EST Saturday night), I felt pride—pride in my nation, pride in the United States of America—for the first time in a very long time . . . at least four years.
I had goose bumps and tears in my eyes. I felt 100% American. I felt completely connected to my country and my people.
I could feel those distant emotions slowly flowing back into my heart, my mind, my soul.
I remembered the feeling before, that feeling of pride in my homeland.
That night, sitting alone in my living room in Spain, it came back . . . first a trickle . . . then a flood . . .
I could finally declare out loud, “I am proud to be an American!”
Wow! I said it! “I am proud to be an American!”
There was something really powerful that President Elect Joe Biden said last night that resonated loudly for me personally.
It was the key that unlocked something for me . . . unlocked the door of pride in my country.
“Tonight, the whole world is watching America. It’s time to make America respected around the world again.”
If you haven’t lived around the world, you may not have heard, you may not know that the nations have lost respect for America.
It is time, like President Elect Joe Biden, said. It is time to heal our nation.
It is time for me to declare again from the mountaintops, “I am proud to be an American! I will no longer hide my nationality! I will no longer be embarrassed and ashamed of my country! I am proud to be an American!”
Can you hear me yelling from across the ocean?
My 7-year-old son, Pierre, sits next to me while I write, wrapped up in his favorite cozy American flag blanket. This entire American/French family living in Spain is proud to be American today!
We are raising our American flag high!
—THE CULTURAL STORY-WEAVER
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If you are an American, how do you feel about being labeled as an American by others around the world? Do you feel their perspective is accurate or distorted? If you are not an American, what is your perspective of this country and its leadership?
We invite you to tell us your own cultural stories and global adventures . . . as you engage with the world, breaking down barriers, building bridges, and “weaving cultures!” Write about them in the comment box below.
